Broken Wings
by Eli Der Autor
Summary: Ymir can see dead people, and Historia is the first spectre she's met with something worth saying. [ Yumikuri AU ]


**Is There a Ghost?  
**Band of Horses

"_Why does the angel have a broken wing, mother?" The small girl stared up at her curiously, not taking in most of her surroundings. She was wearing a light pink dress that ended just below her knees and a pair of shiny black shoes. In her hand was a small figurine of an angel that had a bit of its wing missing. A pale woman laid in front of her, tears streaking down a face with no features. Her light blue dress was dotted with small white flowers and unexplainable red splotches._

_From a corner of the room, Ymir woke up. She was bound and shackled to the wall by invisible restraints, arms spread out and breaths sharp. Confusion riddled her features._

"_Now's not the time for questions," a voice – the girl's mother – answered._

"_But I need to know. Please." The girl's voice was that of an innocent young child, but there was a desperate nature to it. "I need to know, mother."_

_There was a haunting echo to it._

"_I need to know."_

_White hand marks started to become visible on her pale neck, and a gurgling sound started coming from her. Someone – or something – was choking her. A light sheen was appearing on her skin, and Ymir fought the invisible chains that bound her to the place that she was. The brunette was merely a spectator. A ghost._

"_Hey!" Ymir tried to scream. No sound came out. "Let go of her!"_

_The faceless girl's body fell to the ground, and thick red marks wrapped around her neck. Her breathing ceased._

_She was dead._

_Ymir couldn't reach her no matter how hard she tried. Something was holding her back and forcing her to simply watch the gruesome scene. The woman lying in front of the mysterious girl didn't seem to care. She, too, looked like she was almost dead._

_The words hadn't faded from the air._

"_I need to know, mother. I need to know."_

_The dead girl lifted her arm slightly, and the breath caught in Ymir's throat. "I need to know." Slowly, the girl started to drag herself towards Ymir with the arm. Her small body scraped across the floor, open gashes starting to appear on her form. The words filled Ymir's ears and she wanted to scream. She wanted to block out the saying._

_The girl's body was nearing Ymir. Her face seemed darker, lacking the parts that made a human, well, human. Shadows danced across the flesh, a picture show of its own. Ymir tried to close her eyes, but the invisible restraints forced them open as well. The girl's hand was clawing its way over to Ymir._

_Abruptly, she stopped. Her head tilted to the side slightly, the marks on her neck more prominent in the light. Though she had no eyes, Ymir had the sensation that she could see her. That the girl's eyes were boring into her._

"_Do you know?"_

Brown eyes snapped open as Ymir was reunited with reality. Her breaths were short and sharp, the chains that her dream had bound her to still holding her to the ground. Upon a second glance, though, the brunette realized that her prison was nothing more than her own thoughts. Sometimes the mind can be far worse than any jail cell.

Her thoughts were scattered like leaves on the fall ground. The dream had been vivid and piercing. She was surprised that her subconscious could think up such a thing in such short time. The brain is simply odd like that. Ymir was no stranger to this knowledge, and she doubted that she ever would be.

She smacked her ear as if trying to get water out of it. It was an attempt to wake herself up, but it was a pretty futile attempt since it did nothing more than make her cheek sting a little.

_Brilliant_, Ymir thought with a sarcastic edge. _Just brilliant_.

The world around her was wrapped in a soft gray haze, a dewy sheen to the grass growing amongst the tombstones. To think Ymir had fallen asleep among the dead once again. Perhaps she simply wouldn't wake up the next time she'd slumber with corpses. They could have an eternal nap; why couldn't she?

They.

Specters.

"Ghosts," if you prefer the term.

The apparitions existed, yes. Ghosts and ghouls. Angels and demons. Mortals labeled the creatures to try and understand them better, but the living could never truly coexist alongside the dead. They made shows about hunting the paranormal and messed around on Ouija boards for cheap party tricks, but they rarely truly broke into the world of the departed. They simply scratched the surface.

Ymir went far deeper than the surface, though, because she had a gift.

Pulling herself to her feet, the girl stretched her arm until it gave a loud pop. Satisfied, she released a sigh. Sleep lay heavy on her bones. There never seemed to be enough time in the world for humans to get fully rested, but Ymir accepted this and moved on with her life. She didn't know how long she would have before she'd be just another walking spirit, waiting to end up in heaven or hell.

That's what the specters referred to the afterlife as, anyways. They still held onto mortal names.

What use is a name when you don't even have air in your lungs or a will in your heart?

Apparently, it was worth a lot. The dead tended to hold onto things from their past lives as long as they could.

The moment her arm popped, there was the sound of movement. Ymir's eyes darted to a withered tree with limbs that stretched towards the clouds. Someone was watching her. Someone was there. In the pit of her stomach, Ymir knew that it was a specter. Her heart sank. She'd slept too long. No longer would the docile spirits be surrounding her; the "demons" liked to play when the sun began to set.

Demons. Psh. More like jackasses hiding behind urban legends in a futile attempt to seem cooler. They were threatening, sure, but more annoying than anything. It was rare for Ymir to actually stumble across a soul tainted to the point that she became legitimately afraid.

That noise. It was crackling leaves and heavy breathing. Why was the spirit breathing? Demons didn't breathe. Then again, neither did angels, but that wasn't the point. It had to be nothing more than a poltergeist.

Ymir was cautious, but she was also curious. The threat couldn't be too heavy. With eyes narrowed and senses tingling, she made her way to the tree. It was ancient and twisted. The bark that clung to it was peeling away like dry skin. She expected to see some grotesque hand grabbing at its surface – the typical mark of a poltergeist held to the earth by spite disguised as a purpose – but instead found porcelain fingers and manicured nails.

Blue eyes peered up at her, glassy and confused.

It was a girl.

A dead girl.

She was beautiful in a sad way. Her blonde hair framed her features like a golden halo that could be devastated with a single touch. Every inch of her was delicate, her skin awash with pallidity and flesh hanging onto her bones like an oversized t-shirt. Starvation could easily have been the cause of her death. Neglect. But the white handprints that stretched around her neck like a tattoo made Ymir wonder if it was a case of strangulation. Perhaps it was a bit of it all. Nevertheless, she was a breakable being, and it filled Ymir with pity.

Draped across the girl made of bones and dust was a white gown. It was the length of her body, brushing across the dirt with each breath, and it gave her an ethereal look. She was a goddess preserved by death and chained to the earth by beings far more powerful than she would ever be. The closer Ymir looked at it, though, the more she realized that it was nothing more than a nightgown. She had died in her sleep.

Well, in her pajamas.

When the girl spoke, Ymir practically jumped out of her skin. She hadn't realized that she'd been staring all this time.

"Are you lost?"

Her words were surprisingly strong despite her feeble appearance.

"I don't believe that I am," Ymir said hesitantly. Although she was getting no negative vibes from the specter, she was careful not to let her guard down. The dead were tricky beings. One wrong step and you could find another soul in your body. Ymir liked to keep her body to herself.

There was a moment of silence before the blonde straightened up. "Are you sure?" she continued, sugar and spice and everything nice lacing her words. "You seem pretty lost to me." Her articulation was nice, the softness of her words cushioning Ymir's thoughts. She seemed rather… Trustworthy. "The way to hell is just down, you know."

Ymir raised an eyebrow.

_The way to hell?_

Suddenly, it dawned upon her that the mystery girl might've considered her to be dead. It made sense, after all. She had fallen asleep in a graveyard. A lost soul might've found itself resting amongst the tombstones in a state of confusion and wariness. Ymir gave off this vibe entirely.

"I think you have the wrong idea," Ymir managed to get out, taking a step away from the girl. "I'm not a—"

"Oh!" The spirit's eyes lit up, and she grabbed Ymir's arm with a feverish excitement. "So you're in the in-between as well! Welcome to the club." Her lips curved into a smile of relief. "How long have you been here?"

Ymir shook her head. "No, I'm not… I'm not dead." It was strange that she even had to express that. Most specters could distinguish the living from the dead in a heartbeat.

Confusion worked its way across her features. "You're not dead?" A quizzical expression took over her. "Then what are you?" One could practically see the gears turning as she attempted to connect the dots. Without any warning, a lightbulb went off inside her pretty little head. "Wait, you're _alive_?"

A smirk crossed over Ymir's lips. She found the whole situation laughable. This dead girl was baffled by her life, her essence. It was positively strange.

"Well, yeah. I've been alive all my life." Of course she was making a joke out of it. How else was she to handle the situation?

The spectre took a tentative step forward, her pale eyes fixated upon Ymir's face. Her blonde hair washed down her back like a waterfall, strands nestling into the nooks and crannies of her nightgown. With a shaky breath, the ghost lifted a hand and brushed the back of her palm against Ymir's cheek. A bolt of electricity raced up her skin, and her blood boiled within her icy fingertips. It felt like her skin would simply pop and peel away to reveal hot fire tucked within her bones. Ymir flinched, and the spirit yanked her hand away with a gasp.

"What was _that_?"

"How the hell did you _touch _me?"

The two's voices overlapped as they both put a wide distance between one another. This was definitely getting weird. Spirits tended to be unable to make physical contact with the living unless they had immense power, and here this girl was, making Ymir's skin tingle and her blood catch ablaze. It made her deeply uneasy. Who was this spectre?

"Who _are _you?" Ymir asked with suspicion lacing her words.

With a pause, the spectre thought over her words carefully before saying, "Historia. My name is Historia."

The girl - Historia - took a deep breath and sat down with her legs crossed. She looked up at Ymir beneath blond lashes and said quietly, "Okay, I'll try and explain things a little better. My name is Historia Reiss. I'm eighteen, and I died a week and a half ago. The cause of death was neglect and strangulation. The police said my neck 'snapped like a dry twig' beneath my mother's hands. I've been stuck in the in-between for the past few days, and I haven't been able to get in contact with anyone. Well… Anyone but you." She sheepishly smiled.

Ymir looked her over, skepticism bleeding into her every glance. It explained Historia's fragility and the marks around her neck. "Why were you strangled?"

"I was an accident," Historia went on to explain calmly. "I was born out of wedlock, which my mother's family despised, and they disowned her because of it. She strangled me in my sleep after weeks upon weeks of neglect. I woke up to find her over me, and I made a break for it. Upon arriving here, I realized… I'm dead." She shrugged. "I suppose that's life. Well... death."

Ymir slowly lowered herself to the ground and sat before Historia. She brushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear and gave a small smile. "Well, you're not wrong. Life sucks ass."

Historia laughed. Her laugh was beautiful, like twinkling bells. She was truly beautiful.

"So, why haven't you passed on yet?" Ymir asked. "You don't seem all that vengeful. Most spirits have a reason why they're bound to earth. What's yours?"

Silence crossed over Historia. She paused before pulling herself back to her feet and deeply inhaling. Her arms outstretched, fingertips reaching towards opposite directions and bones cracking as if unused for decades. Finally, a pair of gorgeous white wings unfolded from behind her. They were silken to the touch, feathers falling over one another in futile attempts to show off their glistening white surface. She was angelic. Beautiful.

Ymir stared in awe for a moment before stating, "That doesn't answer my question. You're an angel. So what? That just means that you should've passed on already."

Historia shook her head. Her wings slowly folded in on themselves, and she shook out her back before curling in on her body and letting shakiness overtake her. A gasp escaped her lips, and two thick, leathery wings protruded from her skin. They forced themselves out of their meaty surroundings and pressed against the air, fighting against the universe for dominance. They were heavy and black, and Ymir's eyes followed to Historia's head. Two black horns had risen from her scalp. Historia's breaths were sharp and labored.

Ymir was speechless. "You're…"

"I'm trapped," Historia explained. "I'm stuck in the in-between. I'm not an angel or a demon. I'm… I'm just… Here." She shrugged, and the wings quickly returned to beneath her skin. She shook out her shoulders as if letting them get used to lacking all that weight once again. "On Earth, I was neither good nor bad. I was… medium."

"I've never heard of being 'medium,'" Ymir responded skeptically.

The blonde winked. "Well, then you're in for quite the treat."

All her life, Ymir had run from spectres. From the paranormal. From the people who plagued her. But, with the flutter of Historia's lashes and the tousling of her hair, something within the girl changed. Perhaps it was her fear, or maybe it was her desire, but, whatever it was, it was strong. It was strong enough to shift mountains and change hearts.

It certainly changed hers.

* * *

Ymir returned the next day to lay a flower upon Historia's grave.

The moment Historia appeared, their conversation was fluid and sweet. Despite the edge that Ymir had to her personality, every word she said that was harsh or could easily be misinterpreted was met with Historia's gentle disposition. She was a creature who cared deeply about others, and this was not hard to see in the slightest.

They talked for hours, but it felt like minutes. Historia was good conversation, after all. When the sun started going down and Ymir was about to leave, she felt a hand settle onto her arm. That same electricity she had felt the first day returned, but it was now bearable.

"Can't you stay a little longer?" Historia breathed. "It's so lonely here…"

Ymir smiled. "I would, but you and I both know that those jackasses come out at night and try and scare people. I'd prefer to avoid that at all costs." Ugh, demons. Ymir had had her fair share of demons.

She could see the gears working in Historia's head as she thought over her options. Then, it all clicked into place.

"Can I come with you?"

There was a long silence that settled over the two. Ymir clicked her tongue in thought, knowing that she could easily mess everything up here. Did she enjoy talking to Historia? Of course. But did she know the potential threat that could come her way if she invited a _spectre _to her home? Even more so.

She couldn't trust Historia, of course. She could be a demon in disguise. She'd seen her wings. She knew that she could be dangerous.

And yet… Her home was lonely. She wouldn't mind having a guest.

But was the risk worth it?

Historia stared up at her solemnly with wide eyes. There was so much longing within them, and it didn't seem inherently malicious. Everything about her seemed genuine. So why was Ymir so on edge?

Her lips moved before her thoughts could stop them. "Sure," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "You can come with."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. When it finally began to dissipate, Historia's eyes lit up. She paused as if letting Ymir's words sink in, then let a smile creep across her features.

And that was how Ymir ended up in her car with a dead girl. She was trying not to think about the reality of the situation, but it was kind of impossible to ignore. It felt surreal. Wasn't she the most anti-spectre person she knew? At parties, whenever someone pulled out a Ouija board, Ymir would be the first person to leave the room. Despite her love of graveyards, she would sage anyone who stepped too close.

So why was she doing this?

With a glance over at Historia, Ymir felt a pang in her chest. It had to be pity. It couldn't be anything else. Giving a sigh of resignation, Ymir knew that her empathy would be her downfall.

Historia noticed this. She raised an eyebrow, setting a hand on Ymir's arm. That same bolt of electricity bubbled up within Ymir's arm. It was fire hot, and it made her wince. Historia removed her hand the second she saw her flinch. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess I'm still not used to having this affect on someone."

"It's alright," Ymir replied. "Y'know, you should feel special. I've never invited a spectre over before."

Historia smirked. "Ever invited a girl over?"

It only took a second for the retort to slip from Ymir's lips. "Have you?"

The smile slowly faded from Historia's lips, and Ymir noticed a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. She turned to the window, and Ymir had to resist the urge to laugh.

"I'm just messing with you," she grinned.

Historia looked back over to give her a bashful smile. "I know." With that, she looked back out the window.

The rest of the ride was quiet. It wasn't awkward so much as thoughtful. Historia stared out the window, trees and signs dancing across her light blue eyes, while Ymir focused on the road. In seemingly no time, Ymir pulled up to a house. It was rather generic with white shutters and brick walls, but it was nice. The roof was the color of ash, and Historia opened the car door and stepped out into the clean country air.

"Do you have any neighbors?" she asked, looking from the trees to Ymir.

"Not for a little while," the girl replied. "They live over that way. The house is pretty secluded. My parents are constantly away on business trips and vacation, so I've pretty much got the place to myself year round." She crossed her arms over her chest, then gave Historia a gesture for her to lead the way.

The pair approached the front door, and Ymir slipped the key into the lock before pushing it open. "Home sweet home," she called to no one in particular. "Take your shoes off before you come in."

Historia looked down at her feet. She wasn't wearing shoes. She hadn't died with any on.

There was a pause before Historia rolled her eyes and stepped inside. She looked around for a moment before sprawling across the couch and closing her eyes. Ymir watched her curiously, wondering what was going on inside her pretty little head.

"Thank you," Historia said after a moment.

"For what?"

"For treating me as an equal."

Ymir smiled. She didn't respond to the comment, but instead walked over to the couch and sat down on the empty cushion. (Historia was so short that she couldn't cover the whole thing.) Taking a hand and setting it atop Historia's, she felt the electricity and the burning, but she kept it there. Historia gave her a look of confusion, but Ymir didn't clarify anything.

Instead, they just sat there, two outcasts taking it all day by day.

It was the start of something beautiful.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of _Broken Wings_! ****I hope you've enjoyed the introduction to my story. ****I've been outlining the plot for a while, so I'm excited to finally share with you the result of my planning. If you like the fanfic, please be sure to favorite and follow it! All comments are read and appreciated.**


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